I wake up to sunlight streaming through my window and Zeke's side of the bed empty. There's a note on his pillow: *Had to get to an early study group. Last night was perfect. Love you. -Z*
I trace the words with my finger, smiling. Love you. We say it easily now, without the weight of uncertainty that used to accompany it.
My phone buzzes with a text from Maya asking if I want to grab coffee before our afternoon class. I respond yes and drag myself out of bed, already thinking about the painting I need to finish for my portfolio review next week.
The next few days pass in a blur of normalcy that I've come to cherish. Classes, studio time, stolen moments with Zeke between our increasingly demanding schedules.
**Tuesday:**
**Zeke:** *Model presentation went well. Professor said my desig
